Desecration
by Hellie Ace
Summary: Arthur Kirkland has patrolled the streets for years. No criminal has affected him, until now. The boy is a mystery, and Arthur will risk his entire career to find justice for a young prostitute he's come to adore. Prostitute!Alfred and Police!Arthur.
1. Alive

**Desecration**

**Part 1: Alive**

**Warnings: The story contains (and will contain) light boy x boy, character death, swearing and some sensitive materials. Those who love happiness, joy and perfect love, be advised, this is not the story for you. ;) UKUS.**

**I do not own Hetalia, it's characters, etc. That honor belongs to Himayura Hidekaz. ;)**

**Full summary: Arthur Kirkland, officer with NYPD was used to a strange life. He'd been able to see the supernatural since a young age, but that had never made life all that much different. The creatures only he could see never bothered him. What did perturb Arthur though, was a certain young male prostitute that he saw constantly around the red-light district. When a strange attraction formed from his vicarious observations of the boy, what will happen when he actually confronts the man? He cares what happens to the boy, but what if the boy doesn't care about what happens to himself? How's a noble man of the law to deal with shady white under belly of society that tortures his one-sided love?**

**A/N: While I should writing Risico's next awesometastic chapter, this idea hit me like a brick, held a gun to my head and forced me to write it! :P I swear! Lol**

**Oh so my mind was set on 'dark' last night at work and I had the idea, so yeah, 4 hours later...It's written. ;)**

**On to the show!**

There he was again. It was that same boy with the dusky gold hair and hard, blue eyes that was always working the same street. Every evening he was out there, usually accompanied by a few of his fellow female 'employees.'

"They're disgusting. Look at them, collecting around the filthy streets like cockroaches."

Arthur groaned at the complete lack of tact his partner displayed. If the scene at the street corner never changed, then neither did his crude, rookie partner.

"Be respectful, you don't know them."

"They're prostitutes, sir! I don't have to know them to understand that selling yourself for a bit of cash is just plain wrong."

Arthur seriously hoped that one day the man beside him fell on bad times. Maybe then he'd understand just how far people would go just to survive in this insane world.

It wasn't that Arthur Kirkland, police officer for New York Police Department, approved of prostitution. It was just that he understood how bad the times were. If food meant selling yourself, then so be it. Maybe it was better to eat and be used, rather than to die, alone and starved in some alley.

Still, it was very much illegal, and Arthur did want to keep _his_ job. He stepped out of his patrol car, and his rookie partner followed, wearing an ugly scowl.

Officer Kirkland approached the corner stony and calm.

When the prostitutes saw Arthur approach they scowled and began to disperse. All of them save for one: the boy.

He met Arthur's gaze with a defiance that absolutely infuriated the policeman. Arthur may have understood desperation, but out right rebellion was something he resented.

"Good evening, boy."

"'Sup, officer." Said boy responded curtly.

"You do realize that what you're doing is illegal, correct?"

"Didn't know it was a crime to be standin' on the corner, officer."

"Don't play dumb, you worthless-" Arthur silenced his partner with ferocious glare. He backed down, but snarled as the boy stuck out his tongue mischievously at the rookie.

"Boy, don't play games with me. I know very well you were not standing innocently on this corner." Arthur returned his attention to the male prostitute.

"You can't prove that." He said slyly, turning his back to the policemen.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?"

"To find another place that I can stand at my corner without the police abusing their power." The boy spit back, walking away down the darkening street.

"Scum…" Arthur's partner grumbled under his breath, following his senior partner back to the patrol car. "Why don't we just collar 'im, huh? It's obvious that he's committing a crime!"

"No. He's right. We can't prove it, not unless we catch him with a John." Arthur responded sullenly as they drove away from the corner.

"So? Just wait at the corner until someone pulls up!"

"He'd deny it and run the second we stepped in."

"There's got to be someway!"

Arthur nodded as they pulled up to the police station.

"There is, don't worry."

"I ain't." The rookie said as he got out of Arthur's car. "Hey, my kid's birthday is tomorrow, so I'm takin' off. I'll see you Monday." He finished, shutting the door and walking to his own car.

Arthur sighed; he had kept all his belongings still in his patrol car, so there was no need to go back into the station now. Besides, it was getting late, and the weary blond wanted to be home.

_**`.:;Desecration;:.`**_

The next evening, as the sun dipped below the skyline, Arthur sat in his patrol car, waiting for the golden haired prostitute to arrive.

As if on cue, the boy appeared from around the bend of the street with a flaunty strut. He looked as if he owned the world and he damned well knew it.

Naturally, the boy was dressed in his typical attire: dark skinny jeans, littered with revealing tears and a tight shirt that hugged his lithe form neatly. A bit of eyeliner gave a dark flare to his already intense eyes.

Stopping at the corner he removed his glasses and jammed them into the tight pockets of his pants. He replaced them with a pair of contacts he seemed to always carry around, but Arthur thought he looked so much more handsome with the spectacles framing his face.

Yes, officer Kirkland did have a bit of a fancy for the boy. Over the weeks and months he'd patrolled his part of town, he'd seen the boy everywhere and grown somewhat attached to him.

In numerous, tense confrontations, he'd felt as if he gained a bit more of the boy each time. Arthur had discovered that the boy, though homeless and a criminal, was actually quite clever, smart and quick on his feet. He even had a peculiarly good understanding of the law, his rights and police workings. How, Arthur didn't know.

Arthur didn't even know his name. He was simply 'boy.'

A rusted, green Honda pulled up to the curb, then, beckoning the boy over.

With a few long strides, the boy leaned against his John's window and the two started a low discussion about prices.

Officer Kirkland seized his chance and stepped out of his patrol car. He jogged up to green Honda and the prostitute.

The dusky gold-haired boy snarled.

"Get the Hell out outta here, cop!" He bellowed.

The green Honda sped off, leaving a cloud of smoke fro the exhaust, making the boy cough sickly.

Arthur felt his lips twitch in a triumphant smirk as he matched the other blond's eyes.

"Prostitution is illegal, boy."

"I was just talkin' to the guy! That a crime too, dumb ass?"

"Watch it, punk, or-"

"Or what?" The male prostitute taunted.

Arthur sneered, glaring at the boy, but remained silent.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The taller blond responded harshly, turning away from Arthur.

The emerald-eyed man followed him, refusing to let the boy win.

"Don't think you're in the clear, boy!"

"Shut the fuck up!" He called back, not even looking over his shoulder.

Arthur smirked, seeing that he relied the man up. It gave him a sort of sick satisfaction as he strode after him.

The prostitute finally stopped a few block from Arthur's patrol car, growing infuriated with the persistent policeman following him.

"What the Hell do you want?" He growled out.

That was a good question. What did Arthur want? It wasn't like he could arrest the boy; he hadn't done anything illegal, yet.

He looked the boy up and down before sighing.

"Why are you out here, boy?"

"Enjoying the view, officer." He answered darkly.

Arthur shook his head, and stepped up to the taller's side. The prostitute stepped back, losing the sway of his confidence. The policeman didn't ease up, and followed the taller blond as he backed himself into an alley.

"Stop! Go away!" The blue-eyed man screamed with his eyes glittering with hate.

The policeman halted reluctantly. The boy knew quite a bit about law, and Arthur wasn't about to take the risk of being written up for attempted assault or police brutality. If the boy didn't want him any closer, than he couldn't challenge that.

"Go the fuck away!" The blue-eyed blond yelled again, fists clenched.

"Very well." Arthur resigned reluctantly, taking a step back.

To say the boy was surprised was an understatement. He honestly hadn't expected the persistent policeman to obey him. He liked that little bit of power he could exert.

"Go on! Get your sorry ass outta my turf!" He grinned maliciously as Officer Kirkland turned and vanished down the dark street.

_**`.:;Desecration;:.`**_

A week came and went rather quickly for Arthur Kirkland. He hadn't been back to the red-light district since his last encounter with the golden-haired prostitute.

He sighed heavily. Friday night patrol was never fun, especially when you were alone and the night was completely quiet. His partner had been ordered to remain at the station to complete more of his forms and on paper training.

Arthur draped his arms over the steering wheel of his patrol car and peered out the windshield.

A few small, pale lights drifted across the streets, occasionally they would flicker and vanish.

Ghosts.

That wasn't an unusual sight for Arthur though. There were a lot of them in New York City, and he was parked beside a cemetery, too.

For as long as he could recall, Arthur had always been able to see the supernatural. Mostly just Fey and spirits, but occasionally a lost brownie would scuttle up to him and inquire the location of the nearest faerie ring. He'd even seen a unicorn once, but it had only been a fleeting glimpse.

Still anything other than loner fey and spirits were very rare and so Arthur didn't much talk to anything supernatural. Ghosts tended to be flighty and suspicious, and the Fey were just plain dangerous with their mischievous ways.

Arthur left them alone, and in turn they returned the courtesy. Now though, he had the distinctive urge to talk to someone, be it ghost or anything else. He was just that bored.

He quickly discarded the idea and turned the engine on. If he wanted a little excitement to keep him entertained, then there was no better place than the red-light district.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

"Ace, look!" One of his fellow 'employees' whispered harshly, pointing towards the street.

The male prostitute followed her finger and spotted a patrol car leisurely driving down the streets, all its lights turned off. He recognized the number on the car as it passed under a streetlight. It was officer Kirkland's patrol car.

"I'll see you girls later." He mumbled under his breath. "Be careful."

They watched him as he sprinted down the street, gunning for his alley home.

When Arthur stepped out of his car and approached the four girls they gave him aloof glares.

"Ladies," He started, tipping his uniform hat.

"Whaddya want?" One asked. She was a dark skinned girl, with deep, beautiful Hispanic features and had a natural dignity about her. Arthur wondered how such a beautiful girl had ended up working this side of town.

"That boy who was with you earlier."

"He's not working tonight, so sorry officer. You'll have to find someone else." Another said with biting sarcasm and annoyance.

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"That's not what I meant. Where did he go?"

"He's not here, and that's all you need to know." A young blonde said, tossing her golden locks over her shoulder and out of her face.

"Where is he? I won't ask again." Arthur warned.

"If you really think we're going to give Ace up to the cops, then you've got another thing comin,' sweetheart." The blonde continued, earning a collective chime of agreement from the other three.

"Ace…" Arthur mumbled softly under his breath, mulling the obvious decoy name over.

"Scram, cop. We look bad talkin' to your kind."

Officer Kirkland stepped back.

"Thank you for your time, ladies." He grit out before returning to his car, driving away thinking of the blue-eyed prostitute.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

Next Wednesday night, after he'd dropped his partner off at the police station, Arthur had returned to the same street corner of the red-light district he always did.

The emerald-eyed man parked his car in a shadowy alley. Exiting, he locked the doors and stuffed the keys into his pocket before approaching the corner.

Sure enough, the male prostitute that Arthur now knew as 'Ace' stood waiting. He was alone this time, making Arthur smirk in triumph.

The taller blond groaned as he saw the policeman approach.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" He growled out, but Arthur heard the tired ache in his voice. A twinge of sympathy pricked his heart.

"Unfortunately, no. It's my duty to keep you from doing anything criminal."

"Yeah, well thanks to you coming around all the time, business has been bad."

"I do apologize for that."

"You don't give a shit." Ace retorted bitterly, too tired to even move away as Arthur came to stand just beside him.

"You're wrong. I may be one of the few who still does care about what happens to people like you."

"People like me…" The blue-eyed boy laughed bitterly. "You don't know me, or anything about 'people like me.'"

Arthur frowned, glancing sidelong at the man beside him. The boy had dark circles under his eyes and a hollow expression. His tight clothing showed just how thin he was. The policeman could see the rises of his jutting ribs and see the protrusions of his hipbones.

"When was the last time you ate, Ace?"

"How the Hell do you know my name?"

"Your lady friends. Don't worry; they refused to cooperate with me. Now answer my question."

"Sunday." He responded, but was clearly distracted. His eyes alighted on a pair of yellow headlights approaching. The car pulled up, rolling the window down to reveal a greasy looking man in a red polo.

Ace shot Arthur a pointed look and approached the car. He leaned on the doorframe and whispered something to the man that Arthur couldn't hear.

The prostitute stepped back, watching the car speed away.

"You're bad for business." The taller mumbled, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, don't let me get in your way." Arthur said smugly.

"You're a liar." Ace sneered, turning his back and starting to walk down the street.

"How so?" The policeman asked, following after the boy.

"You said you cared."

"I do."

"If you cared you'd leave me alone."

"How is that caring?" Arthur prodded. He halted when Ace stopped abruptly, rounding on the shorter blond with a ferocious snarl.

"Because, I can't make money with you around and if I don't get paid, I don't eat. So tell me, officer, is your definition of 'caring' slowly starving a man to death?"

Arthur was stunned. He hadn't really thought of it that way before.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled and fished into his pockets.

"No, you're not. Fuck you!" Ace spit on Arthur's shoes, turning to storm away.

Arthur grabbed his shoulder, effectively halting the prostitute. Before the boy even had a chance to respond, Arthur stuffed a couple of dollar bills he had in his pocket into the other man's hand.

"Go eat something, Ace, and know that I really do care." He murmured softly into the stunned man's ear before turning to walk away.

Ace watched in silence as the policeman walked away with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He looked down at his hand clenched around seven dollars. The blond sighed, stuffing them into his pockets and walking the opposite direction. He felt a strange ache in his heart that sent warm tingles into his empty stomach. Maybe officer Kirkland did care?

No. He shook the thought off. It was probably just some guilt-trip gesture. The police didn't care about him, no one did.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

Arthur returned to Ace's corner the next Friday night, once again alone. No one at the station had yet to question his late night patrols and goings yet. Arthur was thankful for that as he exited the vehicle.

A soft sound made him turn. A flickering figure was perched on the roof of his car.

Damned ghosts getting bold, again.

He shooed the spirit away by waving his hands. It blinked out of existence with a faint cry.

Shaking his head, Arthur walked to the street corner he'd become so familiar with.

Ace was standing there, and to Arthur's dismay, he looked even worse than Wednesday night.

The boy had a cut on his forehead and dark bruise marring his cheek, and there may possibly have been other marks but from where he stood, Arthur couldn't tell.

"Ace!" Arthur called from the dark street as he approached.

The blue-eyed prostitute took one look at him before bolting down the street.

The policeman gasped, but sprinted after him. He found that for being half starved and wounded, Ace was surprisingly fast, ducking in and out of different alleyways to confuse Arthur.

He turned down another alley, only to be met with a chain link fence blocking his escape.

"Ace!"

Said man turned, growling as Arthur stood at the entrance of alley, panting from exertion.

The prostitute was no better. His breath rattled in his chest and an overwhelming exhaustion dragged him down. He felt his knees barely supporting his slight weight and he trembled.

With one last desperate effort, he loops his fingers into the fence wire and vaulted himself up, trying to climb the obstacle.

He made it to the very top before Arthur was at the base and shouting his decoy name. Just before he could jump down, Arthur rammed his shoulder against the fence, shaking it strongly.

Ace felt his balance slip and his legs went out from under him. Unable to catch himself, he fell back, landing on top of the police officer.

Arthur rolled, bracing his arms around Ace's slender chest, using himself to cushion the fall.

He groaned as his back struck the ground, but managed to hold on to the boy.

Ace began to struggle almost immediately.

"Let go!" he screamed, flailing, clawing and biting at Arthur.

"Ow!" Arthur yelped as the boy's incisors sunk into his forearm with enough force to draw blood, but refused to release him.

"Get off me! Get off!" Ace screamed at the top of his lungs. "Help!"

"Oh shut it!" Arthur growled, rolling to pin the prostitute beneath him. "I am the help, if you'd just stop, boy!"

Eventually, Ace slowly stopped struggling, all his energy gone. He lay meekly on his stomach, not even bothering to move when Arthur released his arms.

"Ace…?" The policeman whispered gently, noting the boy had given up. He'd never thought he'd see that. The usually defiant, confident boy looked broken and lost just lying there on the dirty alley floor.

"That's not my name." Ace mumbled against the concrete.

Arthur sat back with his legs folded beneath him. Reaching his hand out, the policeman touched the boy's shoulder blades through his thin shirt. Ace flinched.

"Leave me alone…" He moaned out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I can't do that."

"Please…" He begged and Arthur felt his heart twitch in pain.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" The emerald-eyed man inquired, brushing his knuckles against Ace's bruised cheek tenderly.

"I'll call you an ambulance." The policeman offered when the boy didn't respond. He pulled the radio off his belt.

"No!" Ace whined. "Don't, please! Just go away…"

Arthur spoke into the radio. "This is officer Kirkland, radio number 0397, I need a bus-"

In sheer desperation, Ace swatted the radio away from the policeman, watching it slide away on the concrete before falling back to the dirty ground with a pained moan.

Arthur was stunned a moment. He sighed, listening to the dispatcher ask for his location over the radio.

Reaching over, he picked it up and canceled the dispatch before setting the radio aside.

"You said your name wasn't Ace." Arthur stated simply, the male prostitute didn't argue.

"Then what is your name?"

Still silence.

"You don't have to tell me, I suppose." Arthur murmured, more to himself than the boy lying beside him. "But you do need help."

The shorter blond carefully picked up the boy, cradling him to his chest. Ace was light, deathly so. Arthur was met with no resistance whatsoever.

The unnamed boy let his head rest against the policeman's chest, listening to the man's steady heartbeat as darkness over took him, sending him crashing into unconscious oblivion.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

The prostitute woke to dimmed florescent lights, a terrible, sterile smell and a plethora of metal and screens surrounding him.

He slowly let his eyes adjust to the lights before trying to examine anything too deeply.

Looking to his left, there was an empty chair by the side of the bed and a metal rod that had different IV bags hanging from it. He traced the tubes from the bags to the injection inserts on his wrists, hands and the crook of his elbows. They made his stomach feel queasy just looking at them.

A door opened to his right, and the blue-eyed man looked to the sound. A woman in pink scrubs walked in with a soft smile.

"Hello, dear. Do you feel well enough to talk? The police are here."

He felt is heart speed up, which became evident on the heart monitor by his bedside and the nurse walked up to his side.

"If you don't feel well, I'll send them away." She offered.

The prostitute caught his bottom lip between his teeth nervously. His morphine drugged mind wandered to officer Kirkland.

"Names. What are their names?" He inquired of the nurse.

"An officer Kirkland and an Officer Scott." She answered, checking the IV bags.

"Okay." He mumbled.

"You're sure?"

The blond nodded, watching the nurse leave reluctantly.

A few minutes later, Arthur and his partner walked in the door, followed closely by the same nurse from earlier.

"You have ten minutes, officers. That's it. He's not well as it is." She said sternly before leaving the two policemen and the prostitute alone.

Arthur smiled gently at the boy lying in the clean, white hospital bed.

"I think you should wait outside." He murmured to his partner, adding a pointed glare to emphasize the request.

The man looked more than happy to be out of the room, away from Ace's vicinity.

When the door shut with a click, Arthur proceeded to walk to the edge of the bed and look at the patient information slip there.

"Still no name, huh?" He mumbled, looking to Ace.

"Alfred." He whispered so low that Arthur didn't quite catch it.

"Come again?"

"My name is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones." He said a bit louder. It felt so good to say his own name again. He hadn't been called anything but 'Ace,' 'boy,' or a variety of terrible things for months now.

"Alfred." The policeman liked the way the boy's name rolled easily off his tongue. He took a seat in the empty chair, pulling it up so that he sat right beside the bed.

"Your doctor told us about what happened."

"I don't have a doctor…"

"You do here. Don't worry, the State's paying for it."

Alfred didn't responded, setting his blue gaze anywhere but Arthur's concerned green one.

"You're emaciated and malnourished."

"That's what happens when the cops try to starve you." The male prostitute mumbled, chin to his chest.

"I wasn't trying to starve you!" Arthur barely contained the bite in his words. "What happened to the money I gave you?"

"I got jumped for it."

"That's how you got these, isn't it?" Arthur asked, reaching his hand to brush the dark bruises on the boy's face. Alfred flinched violently, his heart rate speeding up.

"You don't have to be afraid." Arthur whispered, smiling gently at the hurt man.

"You have no idea what you're saying." Alfred growled back.

"I mean it. You're safe now." Officer Kirkland insisted.

"But for how long? Once I get out of here, I-"

"You're not going back there."

"Then where do you expect me to go?" Alfred sneered, his eyes moistening.

Arthur leaned closer, stretching out his hand to cup the boy's cheek. He rolled his thumb to brush away the forming tears at the corners of Alfred's wet blue eyes.

"I don't know, Alfred, but I can't watch you slowly kill yourself out there on the streets."

"I was fine until you showed up." The blue-eyed man bit back weakly, but didn't shy from the policeman's warm hand on his cheek this time.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you really mean that? 'Cause I'm tired of everyone not."

"I do. I really do, Alfred. I just want to help you."

"You can help me by leaving and never, ever coming back to my corner again."

Arthur felt his stomach knot up, and his heart shuddered with a terrible ache. The policeman withdrew his hand and rose.

"If that's what you want."

"Get out." Alfred growled with teeth gritted.

Arthur obeyed, exiting the room and shutting the door quietly behind him. It was the last time he would see the dusky-gold haired boy alive ever again.

**:,( Oh, this will only have 2 parts fyi.**

**Hope you've enjoyed so far and will stick around for part two! :)**


	2. Dead

**Desecration**

**Part 2: Dead**

**Warnings: The story contains (and will contain) light boy x boy, character death, swearing and some sensitive materials. Those who love happiness, joy and perfect love, be advised, this is not the story for you. ;) UKUS.**

**I do not own Hetalia, it's characters, etc. That honor belongs to Himayura Hidekaz. ;)**

**Yep, part 2 and then I will try to get over the Risico block and actually get the damned thing posted! ;p**

**On to the show!**

Everything was cold. The world was gray and dim to Alfred's dying eyes. His breath came on small puffs of thin vapor, dispersing in the chill wind that blew through the alley.

It was so cold, Alfred could only think of the chill that gnawed at his body. Not even the beloved bomber jacket his parents had gotten for him for the Christmas of his senior year in high school could bay the freeze. The frigid air and snow swept under the jacket, attacking the naked skin beneath.

Thankfully, though, his time lying motionless in the snow had almost completely numbed his body, stemming the awful pain that had rooted him to this spot only a few hours earlier.

The prostitute was more than grateful for the small victory. At least it didn't hurt to just lie there in the piling snow.

The flakes fell slowly, drifting to rest on the ground around him daintily. The dying man tried to reach out his numb fingers to catch one of the delicate flakes. He didn't succeed; his body was too weak and too cold to even respond to his dull nerves.

Alfred sighed. A moment of sudden fear overtook him as it became impossible to draw in another breath of the freezing air. His lungs refused to expand, and his heart struggled to pump the sluggish, cold blood through his veins.

_Dying. I'm dying._ Alfred rationalized in those last, dark moments.

He cast his failing blue gaze up to the sky, watching the snow cascade down in slow waves. A few collected on his darker golden lashes, leaving white spots to disrupt his vision, but Alfred didn't mind. What was there to see? Only gray and snow? He'd seen that before. It was nothing special.

But it was, because the dying prostitute realized then, that it would be the last thing he would ever see. Suddenly he wanted to hold on to that moment, and desperate urge for hope weaved into his mind.

_Please, God, Arthur, someone…anyone…help me._

But there was no one, and Alfred couldn't hold on to the moment any longer. His heart had ceased to beat, his lungs refused to expand, and his chilled nervous were frozen solid. There was nothing. No hope.

_You said you cared. I wanted to believe you. _

He regretted sending Arthur away. There was no one now. Maybe, just maybe, if he'd just let the nosy police officer keep coming around, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if he hadn't forced Arthur to go, the emerald-eyed blond would have looked for him, swept him up in his arms like before and saved him.

Maybe.

Alfred just didn't know anymore.

His vision was gone, nothing but black remained. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts anymore. It was hopeless, and Alfred finally let everything go, falling away from the mortal world.

_**`.:;Desecration;:.`**_

Arthur shivered as he started the patrol car and the air vents began blowing the chill air from outside right onto his face. They quickly warmed up, however, and the blond was ecstatic about being out of the cold and exposed to the warm heater.

Beside him, his partner, Scott looked as grateful as Arthur felt.

"Damn, I hate this cold." The rookie grumbled. "Florida never got this chilly."

"Get used to it. Spring's a long way off." Arthur responded, putting the patrol car into drive. They'd already brushed the snow off of Arthur's car, and roads had been salted the previous night.

"What's this call about, anyway?" His partner asked. Arthur shrugged.

"The dispatcher didn't have much information. Apparently, a woman found a dead body lying in alley in the red-light district. No information on the body."

"Probably some drunk moron fell asleep in the snow and just didn't wake up."

"Most likely." Arthur agreed, but a chill ran down his spine. For some reason an ominous, oppressive air had been haunting him since the early morning hours before the sun had risen. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, and been unable to fall back asleep and only a combination of morning teas and coffees was currently keeping him going at full capacity.

Vaguely, he wondered about the mystery body. It wasn't too uncommon at this time of year. The cold could be lethal out here.

They drove in silence until they pulled up to the alley. The medical examiner's vehicle and another patrol car was already there, both parked to block the alley from view.

Arthur killed the engine and they exited the pleasant warmth of car.

They walked up to the two vehicles. Another officer appeared to be comforting a young woman that looked strangely familiar in the back of her patrol car.

"Go see what happened with the girl." He ordered to his rookie partner. "I'll go talk with Dr. Williams." The other policeman nodded, walking off to Arthur's left.

The emerald-eyed blond approached the alley, and a man squatting down beside a figure in the snow.

"Dr. Williams!" Arthur called as he approached. The kneeling man turned around and offered a small smile.

"Hello, officer Kirkland." The man said softly and beckoned him over. When the blond obeyed, he felt a clawing, cold sensation crawling down his spine and shuddered.

"Is something the matter?" The medical examiner asked.

"No. It's nothing, doctor."

Arthur stepped up to the doctor's side and felt his heart plummet as he looked down at the body lying curled up in the snow.

Doctor Williams brushed the newly fallen snow off the young man's shoulder.

"Poor fellow, just lying out here in the snow." The medical examiner mumbled sadly.

"Alfred…" Officer Kirkland murmured in despair and went down on his knees beside the other man.

"You know him?"

Arthur didn't respond initially. He reached his gloved hand out and brushed the boy's pale, cold cheek. Tear trail marks were still evident on his bruised face.

He murmured the boy's name again before withdrawing his hand and collecting himself.

"What do you know about him so far, Matthew?"

The medical examiner frowned. Arthur never called him by his first name; something was terribly wrong.

"I'd put time of death somewhere around the very early morning hours, maybe two or three o' clock."

"How did he die?"

"Judging by these-" Matthew tilted the corpse's chin up, revealing multiple sets of ugly vertical marks layering the dead man's throat. "I'd take a guess and say strangulation, however, I won't know for certain until I can get him on a table and get a proper look at him."

"He's wrong, you know…"

Arthur whirled around, but there was no one else there besides the other officers and the witness. The voice hadn't been any of theirs.

"Officer Kirkland, are you sure you're alright?" The medical examiner asked with deep concern.

"I told you, I'm fine." The policeman responded shakily, rising to his feet. He couldn't bear to look at Alfred's body any longer. It made his heart ache horribly and made the back of his eyes sting.

It had been nearly four months since he'd last seen the male prostitute. His last view of the man alive had been Alfred scowling at him, gritting his teeth and telling him to leave.

Arthur drew in a steadying breath. He regretted obeying the boy's wishes. Maybe he could have prevented this. He would have done anything to keep this from happening. He would have given the boy a home, food, money, anything. Instead he'd tried to respect the boy's wishes. Now the tragic prostitute was dead.

The policeman bit his lip until he could taste the sharp irony tang of his blood. Damn it all. Why? Of all people, why Alfred?

"Are you just going to leave me there? Don't you care anymore?"

Arthur rounded on the voice, but once again there was nothing but cold breeze whispering in the alley. A strange flicker of cold light passed through the alley. It moved just beside Arthur, sending that deathly cold chill down his spine again before it vanished.

The policeman narrowed his eyes, discreetly searching the alley, but there was nothing there anymore. No light, no voice: only the medical examiner and Alfred's lifeless body.

Officer Kirkland returned to his partner who was leaning on the female officer's patrol car.

The witness didn't look too shaken. If anything, she appeared more mournful than distraught, as if he would have thought.

"I don't know what happened, ma'am." She was saying to the female officer. "I was just walking to a friend's apartment when I saw a man lying in the snow. I went to go make sure he was all right when I saw that it was Ace. That's when I called 911. I mean it, I didn't have anything to do with him dying!" She insisted.

"It's okay, we're just going to need you to come back to the station with us, alright?"

"What? No! I'm not going! I told you had nothing to do with it!"

"We're not-"

"We just need to clear your name." Arthur interjected. "Once we've eliminated you as a suspect, you'll be free to go."

The witness turned to him and sneered.

"Clear my name? Why? We all know this is your fault!" She hissed low, having recognized him. The words stunned Arthur.

Then the thought hit him. There was a reason Arthur thought the girl looked familiar. It was the dark Hispanic prostitute that the policeman had seen Ace with, along with the other girls.

She continued, seeing that she had all three of the police officers silenced.

"After Ace came back from the hospital, he was acting different! He'd never smiled much, but after that, he was always depressed! He wouldn't eat hardly anything, even when he could afford it! He told us all about you! What did you do to him? What did you do?" She howled in fury.

The woman lunged at Arthur, but was caught by the female officer and the rookie. She screamed profanities and accusations even as they muscled her into the back of the patrol car.

"You killed him! You did this to him!"

Arthur stepped back, guilt welling up in chest. Maybe it had been his fault, after all. It was too much for the officer. He tried to stumble back to his car as his stomach grew weak.

"Rookie, ride back with her," He motioned to the female officer "or with Dr. Williams." He ordered, not leaving any room for argument.

The emerald-eyed man hurried to his patrol car, his stomach churning dangerously. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, groaning softly. What had he done? Had he upset Alfred so much as to drive him to simply giving up?

"It's not really your fault..."

Arthur looked up, and saw the same flicker as before, perched on the hood of his car. It reminded him of the ghosts he saw around the cemetery. As soon as the policeman thought he could make a figure in the flickering light, it blinked out of existence.

"Don't tease me, who ever you are." He murmured. "Leave me be. I'm not in the mood to deal with you, spirit." Arthur warned.

"Funny, since you would never leave me alone, then when I need you, you were nowhere to be found."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"You know me." The voice said before going silent again.

Arthur sighed wearily. He inserted the key to car, twisting it to turn the engine on.

Glancing up, he watched the medical examiner's vehicle pull out before him with its bright headlights blazing. The policeman followed after, thinking only of the voice as he drove.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

It was probably the most morbid thing Alfred had ever witnessed. Watching the medical examiner slice open his body with surgical precision would have made him sick to his stomach if he had one. He supposed that was one benefit to death; you didn't get sick from watching a stranger remove your organs from your body.

The medical examiner, Matthew Williams, seemed to mumble things to his lifeless body as he worked, as well.

"What happened to you, fella? Nothing wrong with your heart." He muttered, removing the lifeless organ from the weigh scale. "And your liver is intact too. Your lungs are a little off-colored. Did you smoke maybe? You know that's not good for you." Matthew scolded in good nature, as if the corpse would actually respond.

Alfred wanted to tell him that he only smoked when he was really stressed, but of course, Matthew couldn't hear him. So instead, he sat huddled in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest, silent and shivering.

It was strange being dead. Everything was cold around him, and he found he could not fully grasp objects. With enough effort he could make them shift or twitch by using all of his ghostly strength. Being barely semi-solid wasn't exactly practical.

Another strange thing was that no one appeared to be able to see him. They felt him if they touched him and would shiver. He could yell and scream and get in their faces and all anyone would ever do was look around with confusion on their visages.

Everyone, that was except Arthur. He had stood in the alley, watching the police poke and prod at his separate form and listened to his once fellow 'employee' Candra scream and shout at the blond officer.

He had tried to speak with Arthur, but he couldn't seem to hold his form. Over the few hours from his death to the doctor's autopsy, he seemed to have gained a bit more control of at least staying within the mortal realm, rather than the shadowy place he went when he let himself fall out of existence.

Alfred sighed, or at least made some sort of noise only he could hear, since he didn't have lungs anymore.

It was just another thing that made him feel uncomfortable. His chest didn't expand when he thought it ought to. There was no pain when he grabbed at the medical examiner's scalpels, no blood as his figure was cut and reformed. It was as if physics and biology themselves had forgotten he existed.

The ghost and medical examiner both looked up as the door to the autopsy room opened then.

"Hello, Arthur. You're still here awfully late, aren't you?" Matthew said as he removed his gloves and surgical mask.

"Yes. I just wanted to see what you'd found out about Alfred." The shorter blond said quietly. He took one glimpse at the corpse on the cold, silver table, shuddered and looked away.

That hurt, Alfred thought bitterly. He may have been dead, but still, for some reason Arthur's disgust with his form made his already bad mood plummet even further.

Matthew glanced back at his patient's body.

"Yes, I apologize. I was right in the middle of checking his internal organs for any damage that might have contributed to his death."

"Anything?"

"As far as I can tell, no. There was no internal damage other than some bruising to the ribs and broken hyoid, consistent with the strangulation marks on our friend's throat."

"So he died from strangulation?"

"That's what I thought at first, but I checked the marks again. They're strangely made, as if who ever tried to choke him failed on the first few tries and went back to try and finish the job."

"I fought him as hard as I could..." Alfred murmured.

Arthur glanced behind him, finally noticing the figure in the corner of the room. He looked back to Matthew, who had a curious look on his face.

"Sorry, continue."

"As I was saying, after looking them over I concluded-"

"Don't ignore me." Alfred snapped angrily. Arthur swallowed hard.

"I think that he simply died of the cold. He was-"

"It was freezing. I couldn't even move..." The ghost continued beneath the medical examiner's explanation.

"Out there for hours-"

"And I wanted you to be there, but you weren't."

"He probably died slowly. I can't imagine his suffering."

"You have no idea..." Alfred finished, curling up even more.

"That's... unfortunate." Arthur murmured.

"Yes. I agree. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. Stay with him will you? I have to go fetch something. I'll be right back."

"You want me to watch him?"

"Yes, just in case. I don't like to leave them open on the table like that."

"Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

The doctor shrugged, starting to walk towards the exit.

"I won't be long," he said, vanishing through the doors.

Arthur sighed, turning to look at the ghost huddled in the corner.

"Alfred..." He called sadly, heart aching.

The boy didn't look up, even as Arthur approached and knelt in front of him.

"That was you in the alley, wasn't it? You were trying to talk to me."

Alfred flicked his gaze up to Arthur and nodded faintly.

"What happened?"

"I died. Isn't it obvious? And here I was hoping that maybe I'd get a little peace after I died."

Arthur offered a soft smile, his old affection for the boy stirring.

"Life's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Death's just as fucked up." Alfred retorted. "At least when I was alive I could pretend to act like I mattered. Now people can't even see or hear me. I really am nobody now."

"I disagree. I think you're someone."

"Too little, too late." The ghost muttered, dropping his gaze back down to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Alfred."

"Stop saying that!"

"I wish I hadn't listened to you."

"Just shut up and go away." Alfred bit back weakly, no real ferocity to his words.

"I made that mistake once, I refuse to do so again. I just wish I'd kept coming around to that street corner."

"Business got better after you left. I could actually afford to eat."

"And yet you still didn't eat, did you? Maybe if I came around I could have convinced you?"

"I wasn't the same after the hospital." Alfred murmured. "I just never had an appetite."

"Why?" Arthur prodded gently.

"I don't know. I guess I thought you wouldn't listen to me. I waited for you to come walking through that hospital door again for days. But you never came back."

"You told me not to."

"I know." The ghost admitted.

"I still care, you know."

Alfred looked up, meeting Arthur's bright green gaze. It was soft and understanding, something the ghost didn't quite understand.

"Why? Why the fuck do you care about me? You don't know me. I've been nothing but mean to you and-"

"Doesn't matter."

"I don't understand you, officer Kirkland."

"Not yet, at least." Arthur offered, leaning closer.

Alfred could feel the other man's living warmth so close to him. It was an extreme difference to the chill that permeated his entire ghostly figure. He couldn't help but move a bit closer to Arthur, a desperate need for that generous heat overtaking him.

The policeman shuddered violently as the ghost passed through his skin, chilling him to the core.

Alfred drew back, balling his fists in frustration. That was stupid. He was dead and not exactly solid enough to enjoy the finer things of living: like being comforted by a hug. He felt like crying, but that didn't work now either.

Arthur couldn't think of anything to say, but didn't have to. The doors to the autopsy room then as Doctor Williams walked back in.

The policeman rose quickly, throwing the Canadian a silencing look when Matthew opened his mouth to ask just why the police man had been kneeling in the farthest corner of the room for no apparent reason.

"Well, Arthur, I'm going to get back to work with our friend here. I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything incriminating about those strangulation marks.

"Very well. You know where to find me." Arthur said curtly. He glanced down to the ghost still hunched in the corner.

"Come with me?" He beckoned in a whisper with a soft smile on his face.

"No."

"Please? It's cold down here."

"It's cold everywhere." Alfred responded.

"But it's warmer with me." Arthur coaxed gently.

The ghost sighed heavily, reluctantly rising from his place on the floor of the morgue. It was then that Arthur truly took in the prostitute's full apparitional form.

He was only slightly translucent. Arthur was able to see the very faint outline of the wall through him. Alfred looked almost completely human; save for the fact his skin was so devoid of color that it was a deathly white. That, and his outline was wispy, faintly moving and changing slight as if directed by some unearthly wind. Everything else was the same. Maybe his dusky gold hair and his luminous blue eyes were a bit more intense against the backdrop of his dead pallor though.

Alfred's eyes were sad and lost as he followed the police officer out of the cold room of the dead.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

At the end of the day, Arthur was still having little luck trying to usher Alfred from his depression. It was understandable though, and the emerald-eyed blond was willingly patient with the dead prostitute.

The policeman was just packing up, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket and making sure his gun was still clipped to his belt. It had been a long tiresome day and he was ready to go home.

"I'll make sure that the cleaning crew leaves the door to the morgue unlocked for you." He said over his shoulder.

Alfred was standing in the corner of the emerald-eyed man's cubicle.

"Why? I can pass right through the walls, remember?" Alfred retorted with bitter remembrance.

"Of course, I'd forgotten. My apologies."

The ghost shrugged apathetically.

"It's fine."

"Will you be alright by yourself?" Arthur inquired, voice laced with concern.

The blue-eyed ghost didn't respond, only wringing his hands in wispy mess.

Arthur trod over to him, leaning his body close. He may not have been able to actually touch him, but he had discovered that Alfred actually liked when he stood close and offered to share his living warmth.

Alfred inched a little closer, barely avoiding actually touching Arthur. The policeman would shiver wildly and flinch if they actually did brush.

"I'll be fine." The ghost murmured.

"You're sure?"

The boy nodded, pushing away from the officer, melding into the wall and disappearing.

He was probably off to go stay the night in the morgue freezer where is body was being stored. All through the day he'd been periodically checking up on his own corpse, almost as if he were possessed to return to it.

Arthur guessed it was the effect of being newly dead. Alfred probably had a natural attraction to his emaciated body.

The shorter blond drew in a deep breath before exiting his cubicle and leaving the police station in his patrol car.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

The next day was overcast and stormy. It rained cold sheets of piercing droplets on and off throughout the day and into the evening.

Alfred sat and watched Arthur as he did paper work and filed a few things with his luminous blue eyes. Glancing up, he spotted Dr. Williams approaching.

"Matthew's coming." Alfred said low. Arthur looked up. Sure enough, Matthew was striding over to his desk with a frown painted on his thin lips.

"How can I help you, doctor?" Officer Kirkland inquired as the man approached.

"Well, with positive I.D. on the prostitute boy, a finished autopsy report, and contact information on his parents we have an obligation to call them and let them know that their former charge is dead."

"No!" Alfred screamed, a sudden distress overcoming him.

Arthur flinched and Matthew gave him a curious look.

"Officer Kirkland, I'm starting to grow worried about you…"

"I'm fine, doctor. I assure you, anyway, the detectives came up with the information that quickly?"

"They did! Apparently, they processed his fingerprints and found he was actually in the system. It was a quick and easy match."

"Make him stop! Make him go away! You can't call my parents!" Alfred shrieked.

Arthur ignored him as best he could.

"What was he in there for?"

"His original place of employment made finger printing mandatory, or so I'm told."

"I see." Arthur nodded.

Matthew handed him a slip of paper.

"This is the contact information. The detectives left it with me to give to you. I suggest calling immediately, as his parents must be worried."

"Oh course, thank you, doctor."

Matthew nodded before turning to leave.

The moment he was out of earshot, Arthur rounded on the ghost trembling behind him.

"What was that all about?" He asked, a sort of annoyance present in his tone. It wasn't malicious, but the ghost's outburst had seemed way out of hand.

"Please don't call my parents..."

"Alfred, I have to."

"They don't need to know about me. Let them think I'm still alive."

"Tell me, what do they think?" He asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it.

"They don't know anything. They still think I' employed and I'm a productive member of society." He whispered low, his wispy outline faltering.

"I still have to call them."

Alfred snarled, an angry resentment burning in his blue orbs.

"Don't!"

"Alfred, I told you I don't have a-"

But the ghost had heard enough. He passed through the wall of the cubicle, vanishing from Arthur's view.

"Choice..." The blond police officer finished with a sigh. Turning and grabbing the phone, he began dialing the number written on the doctor's slip of paper.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

"That's him...oh God, that's him!" The tall businesswoman whispered in despair. Her husband put a strong arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

Arthur stood a respectful distance from Mr. and Mrs. Jones as they looked through the dark window of the morgue at the body of their dead son. The ghost of the corpse stood just behind Arthur, purposely digging his fingers into the policeman's back to make him shudder and twitch with chill.

"They didn't need to see my body, too. I hate you for this." He whispered maliciously into the shorter blond's ear.

Arthur flicked his gaze back at the furious specter a moment then back to Alfred's parents.

"I'm so sorry for your loss-"

"No, you're not. I knew you didn't care. This is just plain cruel!" Alfred sneered.

"What happened to him?" Mrs. Jones asked, wiping tears from her eyes. "What happened to my boy, officer?"

"He was living on the streets as a prostitute. We believe that a John got overly aggressive with him and attempted to strangle him. Either he got away or the John fled, because we found him dead in an alley but the strangulation was non fatal on its own. Hypothermia was ruled as the cause of death."

"A prostitute? My baby was selling himself on the street?" The woman whispered in horror.

"That can't be right!" Alfred's father insisted. "Alfred was a good kid! He was smart too! We wouldn't have resorted to this kind of thing! We would have told us if he was having problems!"

"Dad, I was too ashamed!" The ghost cried out, but naturally, his father didn't hear it.

"It's true. I knew the boy. He worked in the red-light district; I even tried to help him."

"You just made everything worse!" Alfred hissed.

"I brought him to the hospital, but he didn't want my help."

"I did! Damn it, Arthur! I wanted help, I just couldn't admit it!"

"In an alley, all alone? Did he suffer? Do you even know?" The woman asked.

"Unfortunately so, ma'am."

Arthur clenched his fists, trying to remain professional even as he heard the ghost start to sob and cry behind him. Alfred's mother was in tears as well, his father not far behind.

"You're going to find whoever hurt my son?" The tall man ordered more than asked.

"Our detectives are doing everything they can. I'll give you a call when we know anything more."

"Thank you." Alfred's mother choked out and allowed herself to be lead away by her husband and officer Kirkland.

Just before the green-eyed man exited the viewing room, he glanced back, but Alfred was no longer there.

**`.:;Desecration;:.`**

Arthur didn't speak to the ghostly object of his affections for over a month after the incident with his parents.

While he may not have spoken to him, he did see him. Every instance that he was down in the morgue, Alfred was there. He didn't seem to move. He was always in the corner of the storage room, close to where his body had once been stored.

The body had been removed for burial. Alfred hadn't attended his own funeral.

Sometimes the emerald-eyed blond would try to approach the depressed wraith, but each and every time, Alfred would snarl at him like rabid animal and vanish through the walls to escape.

After the seventeenth attempt, Arthur finally gave up and didn't bother to stray any closer to the specter than needed. He still tried to apologize and offer sweet little words to try to coax the boy to him, but nothing seemed to work.

Alfred might venture a bit closer at the call of his name and the offering of warmth but always changed his mind and returned back to his corner. It was like trying to heel a stray alley cat. You could call it all you wanted, but until it was ready to come to you, it was impossible to catch.

Arthur refused to give up entirely, though. He may have stopped approaching the boy, but he would watch him in the storage room, talk to his silent form and still leave the morgue room unlocked, not because Alfred needed it, but because Arthur still tried to show he cared, even if the ghost did not.

**`.:;Desecration;:;`**

It was already Christmas Eve, and Arthur still had not spoken with Alfred.

The detectives working Alfred's case had stopped by his cubicle and dropped off some of the collected clothing that had been on Alfred's body.

"It's all clean. Not even a spec of DNA evidence we could use." One of the detectives said with a somber shrug. "I get the feeling this is just going to be another cold case soon."

"That can't be!" Arthur objected, rummaging through the box.

"We'll try to pick it back up after Christmas, Kirkland, but right now, there's nothing. The kid died of hypothermia, and that's not a crime."

"It is when someone tried to strangle him and left him to die in an alley!" Arthur roared.

The detective narrowed his eyes.

"There's no proof of that. It could have been a failed suicide attempt for all we know."

"No, it wasn't!" Arthur punctuated each word with searing venom.

"Officer Kirkland, you're overreacting. It's one dead prostitute who stupidly fell asleep in the snow!"

Arthur felt something crack deep down in his heart. With a sigh he leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"You're right. It's just one dead prostitute, just like it could have been just one dead mother or just one dead child." He offered a shrug.

The detective scowled, turning to leave.

"You'd best watch yourself, Kirkland. Williams has already spoken with our supervisor about your apparent behavior. Ever since this slut died in the snow, you've been acting like a mad man. Keep this up, and they'll take your shield and throw you in the psychology ward, and not on the right side of the glass, sir."

The emerald-eyed blond grit his teeth, gripping the desk until his knuckles were bleached white. He wasn't crazy! And how dare this man treat Alfred's case as if it were nothing!

"I'll keep working on this case, Kirkland, but I have more pressing victims to pursue justice for." He said, walking away down the hall.

Arthur began to rummage through the box of Alfred's old clothing with a snarl on his lips.

In a sealed plastic bag he found a leather bomber jacket. Peeling the plastic off, he ran his fingers over the worn leather. It was warped from water damage, but was still supple and warm.

The officer brought the jacket up to his chest, tucking its warm, black fur collar under his chin. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the artificially preserved scents there. For some reason, the scent reminded him of Alfred.

Maybe it was about time to finally make peace with blue-eyed boy he'd fallen for nearly five months ago.

Tucking the jacket under his arm, Arthur headed to the morgue where he knew Alfred to be.

**`.:;Desecration;:;`**

When the door to the morgue slid open, Alfred assumed it was just Doctor Williams again.

"Hello, Alfred."

The ghost looked up from his place on the floor. His blue eyes met Arthur's soft green ones.

"I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see, but…" The emerald-eyed man started, but only shrugged in the end and lay the bomber jacket down in front of Alfred. The boy said nothing, but instinctively tried to grasp his most beloved possession. His pale fingers slipped right through it.

Alfred sighed shakily, staring at the jacket he could no longer wrap around himself for warmth or comfort.

Arthur swallowed hard, guilt welling up and chocking off any words he might have mustered up.

He bent to kneel in front of the wraith, making a soft noise in his throat to catch Alfred's attention. When the ghost tore his gave from the jacket and looked up at Arthur, the policeman offered a smile.

"It's Christmas Eve, you know…"

"Time sure does fly when you're dead."

"Did you plan on enjoying the company of the corpses for the holiday?"

Alfred shrugged, casting his gaze to the cold freezer floor.

"I guess…"

"Well, if you think they won't mind being alone, would you rather come home with me?"

The ghost gasped in surprise, looking up in shock into Arthur's brilliant eyes.

"I know that you probably don't like me. In fact, you likely hate me, but I-"

"Okay." The blue-eyed ghost whispered sadly. The officer smiled.

"You really want to? I thought-"

"You're warm, and kind and…and you never forgot about me." Alfred nodded with a sad smile. "I think I miss the living."

"I thought you hated me?"

"I do and I don't."

"You're talking nonsense." Arthur pointed out softly.

"I'm sure. I've had too much time to think. Nothing makes sense anymore, but…"

"But what?" Arthur asked, leaning closer. The blue-eyed man let his luminous eyes slip shut, sighing in content as the other man's warm heat chased away the cold surrounding him.

"But I think I understand this one thing, just a little more."

"And what would that be?"

"That even if I'm dead and gone, nothing but some old case file on the shelf, you still care. I don't know why the Hell you care, but I know you do. Even after I acted like such a prick to you, you still came around."

"Took you long enough." Arthur chuckled softly, not an ounce of malicious in his voice.

"I'm sorry." Alfred whispered low, watching Arthur rise to full height.

"Come on. It's Christmas Eve, and there's no need to spend it in the morgue's freezer." He said, plucking the jacket from the ground and tossing it over his shoulders.

Alfred thought it looked so nice on the living man as he was lead out of the police building to Arthur's home.

**`.:;Desecration;:;`**

It was nearly midnight by the time they arrived at Arthur's apartment. The place was warm and full of soft Earthy colors. Alfred instantly felt the safety of the place surrounding him like a comforting blanket.

Arthur beckoned him with an easy gesture towards the small kitchen table. He took a seat on one of the chairs, smiling lightly at Alfred.

"What?" The ghost asked after a long silence.

Arthur exhaled heavily.

"I never thought the dead could look so handsome." Arthur said honestly, laughing when Alfred gave a coy shrug.

"Hey, Officer Kirkland?"

"Please, it's Arthur, and what is it?"

"What do you think's gonna happen to me? Like the me in the living world?"

"How do you mean?" Arthur asked, leaning forward. The wraith sighed.

"I listen to the detectives. They're not gonna find the client who left those marks on me."

"Don't say-"

"No. It's okay."

"What?" Arthur whispered in shock.

"I said it's alright. It's my fault anyway."

"Alfred, you're a victim. Of course it isn't your fault. A man tried to strangle you!"

"No, they were from a strap collar. The guy wanted it…uh…kinky and kinda rough, and when it started getting really painful, I tried to get him to stop.

"He threw me out and I just wandered into the alley. It hurt to breath or talk and I was just so cold and tired. I was just plain stupid. I thought maybe if I sat down to try and catch my breath I'd be okay. Then I just couldn't get back up again.

"Arthur, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't say anything to people passing by. No one stopped to help me. I hoped you would come, but I knew it couldn't be. I just gave up…I was cold and confused. I-I-"

The ghost loosed a faint, shuddering moan. Arthur was instantly to his feet.

He instinctively tried to wrap his arms around Alfred's flickering form. He shuddered at the strange, damp cold that was Alfred but kept his arms braced around the specter.

Alfred looked up at him in a strange sense of shock.

He forced all of his will into staying as solid as possible and leaned his forehead on the policeman's shoulder. It instantly made him tired, but he thought it was well worth it to be able to stay so close to Arthur.

"You can't blame yourself. Doctor Williams said that collar broke your hyoid bone, and probably caused other damages, too. You couldn't have called for help even if you tried." Arthur whispered, shivering from the sharp contrast of his own body against Alfred's translucent form. It was rather strange trying to hold Alfred. His form flickered and seeped against the crevices of his clothing and formed a seamless connection between them.

The policeman sighed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I wish I could have saved you."

"I wish you did, too. I think I'd like this better if I was alive." Alfred mumbled into the familiar leather of his jacket.

Arthur had quickly adapted to the wraith's natural chill and his shiver was reduced to only faint cold tingles along the bare skin of his throat where the boy's ethereal hair brushed it.

He sighed and shifted his shoulder, forcing Alfred to look up at him.

"I think I like it just fine." He murmured and kissed the ghost's pale, cold lips. It was like kissing a soft cloud of fog: damp, cold but not altogether unpleasant.

"So maybe I'll never know what it's like to truly kiss you."

Arthur slipped his hand down to brush the boy's fingers. They slipped right through the wraith's form.

"And I'll never know what it's like to really touch you."

Alfred closed his eyes, fighting to stay in the mortal world. Trying to stay as solid as possible was making him exhausted.

"But that's fine. I didn't need those things to fall in love with you."

"You…?" Alfred opened his eyes, looking sidelong at the man still trying to hold him.

"Stupid boy, why do you think I pestered you all those nights?" Arthur asked with a soft smile. "You thought I had nothing better to do?"

"Cops bothered us all the time. I thought you were just another one of them." His words were barely more than a whisper. His bright blue orbs refused to stay open.

"No," The policeman laughed. "I'm quite different, actually."

"I'm glad you are."

Arthur closed his eyes, letting the peaceful silence lapse between, feeling Alfred's form slowly return to its naturally intangible form. His flickering body lapped lazily against the emerald-eyed man's chest, seeping through his clothing and brushing under his skin.

It didn't seem as cold as it should have, and vaguely Arthur wondered if his own body heat had raised Alfred's.

"Can I really stay with you, Arthur?" The boy asked sleepily. "I like it here. It's warm."

"For as long as you want, dear boy."

"Thanks." Alfred muttered, falling through Arthur's body completely and curling up on the floor in some sort of ghost-like form of rest.

Officer Kirkland scoffed, shaking his head with an amused smile.

"Welcome home, Alfred, and Merry Christmas." He murmured as the old clock in the main room chimed midnight on December twenty-fifth.

**Done. :3**

**Sorry for Al's little reversal at the end. I just figured a whole month without any kind of contact would lead to some serious inner reflecting, if not some insanity/desperation . *coughs***

**I like it, and it's like 7.7k words, which is insane for me. :P *claps* Hope you guys enjoyed my angsty little tale! Promise I'll get back to Risico now! :)**


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